


Three Little Ficlets

by royal_chandler



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Ficlets, Imported, LiveJournal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:52:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2954627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_chandler/pseuds/royal_chandler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Little Ficlets

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on January 1, 2010.

**First Kiss**

Jim's not one for jealousy, doesn't see the point in it. You want something, you go after it. That's his policy—no scenario can't be won.

So Jim figures that he should abide by his rules, no exceptions. He's not going to envy a muffin of all things in the universe. Does it even appreciate the way that Bones' lips are curving around it, the fact that the tongue darts out first, that it gets to yield under Bones' teeth? No it doesn't because it's a flipping _muffin_.

The way that Bones is holding it is pure sin, all sexy doctor hands and stuff. Dr. Sexy Hands. One more to add to the many endearments that Jim has come up with in his head.

Jim's taken from his thoughts by a low moan and catches Bones swallow a bite, his Adam's apple moving with more suggestion than Jim can handle.

Jim gets up from his seat and rounds the cafeteria table to get to Bones' side. He crowds the man's space and ignores his shocked expression, merely removes the cursed muffin from his hand.

"Jim, what the—mmph!"

It's not practiced, so it's clumsy. It's the first time, so it's awkward, weird angles and noses that get in the way. But it's perfect because it's _Bones_ , it's them and it's about time. He samples the flavors of orange, cranberry and cinnamon but seeks for the taste of Bones', wants to devour it. Hopes to taste it mingled with coffee, bourbon—whatever the doctor chooses to consume for the rest of his life. When Bones' arms wraps behind his back, Jim smirks against lips that had been a tease at one time.

Pulling back, Jim throws a glare in the muffin's direction. "Mine."

*

**Time on the Lawn**

It’s uncomfortably hot outside, even more so in the itchy interior of the cadet reds. Leonard scowls as he tugs at the sleeves, tries to make it not stick to his skin. It’s futile because it's been tailored extremely snug. Plus, the sun only seems to blaze more, flare into his eyes with a harsh assault. In result, Leonard has to shield his eyes and forget about getting comfortable. All Leonard wants to do is go back inside, where the air is conditioned and no more than 18 degrees Celsius.

Why the hell was he out here?

A grass blade finds it way down the bridge of his nose, controlled by the one and only James T. Kirk.

Oh yeah, _that_ would be why.

For some reason Jim had wanted to spend their lunch break outside, in rising temperatures that show no sign of slowing down—something about a more romantic setting. That’s complete crap if you ask Leonard. But who’s he to say anything? He’s the one with no willpower when it comes to the kid. It’s not his fault though. How’s he supposed to combat eyes that were bluer than the sky they now laid under?

“Quit it, Jim,” Bones gruffs, swats at the offending weed but it’s quickly snatched back before he can touch it.

“Where’s your sense of fun, Bones?” Jim asks, his cheerful expression coming into Leonard’s view when he decides to get on his fours above him. He blocks the sunlight mostly but it does catch at golden strands, highlighting them orange and gold.

Seeing as how they’d found a secluded area on campus, Leonard doesn’t mind the slightly evocative position. “Lost somewhere along this long journey I’ve traveled.”

Jim just laughs, hurries a fleeting kiss to Leonard’s lips before beaming a bright smile. “God, you’re fucking depressing sometimes. Good thing you’ve got me, old man.”

“It’s wonderful, really.” Honestly.

Suddenly, Jim becomes a heavy weight against him, launching the breath from out of his lungs. He sputters and then starts a string of curses that finishes with, “Dammit, Jim!”

Jim muffles something unintelligible, face placed at Leonard’s neck.

Rolling his eyes, Leonard groans. “What? I can’t even hear you, Jim.”

“Shush and be still,” Jim speaks softly, raises his head a little—is cautious, “There’s a bee…behind your head.”

“So? What of it?”

Jim’s silence says more than words ever could. The kid is scared of bees. Cars flying off cliffs? No problem. Bastard stepfathers and absent mothers? A cakewalk. But a buzzing insect is where he crosses the line?

Leonard has an instinct to laugh but it's squashed immediately. He's not much of a cynic when it comes to Jim's insecurities. He can almost feel his demeanor softening, heart swelling with fondness. At some point, Leonard’s arms had found themselves around Jim so he tightens his embrace, presses a kiss to the crown of Jim’s head. “I’ve got you, kid.”

A breeze sweeps over them and Leonard finds that he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

*

**Impromptu Check-Up**

“Jim Kirk.”

“McCoy. Leonard McCoy.”

The kid returns the flask with an appreciative nod. Leonard caps it before placing it back into the inside pocket of his jacket and proceeds to take a good look at his neighbor. “Who took offense to your face? You’ve got more bruises than a heavyweight.”

Jim doesn’t seem to expect the question, hesitates before stating. “Got into a fight with a few of the cadets behind us.” He adds softly, like he’s telling a well-kept secret, “Biggest one of the bunch couldn’t take a joke.”

“Have you had it looked at?” Leonard asks with a clinical voice.

Furrowing his brows in confusion, Jim answers, “Um, no, I haven’t. I’ve had worse so—”

That hardly appeases Leonard. He can’t help it. He’s a doctor at soul—plus there’s the whole Hippocratic Oath part. He feels responsible for the idiots who are stupid enough not to take care of themselves. “Are you insane? That doesn’t negate the fact that you might have a concussion, kid. Also, you’ve got more contusions than I can count.”

“You’re a doctor.”

It’s half statement and half question, equal parts disbelief.

“Yeah,” Leonard grunts. “So forgive me if I don’t accept you having prior experience with brawls as a reason not to receive medical attention.” He reaches out to examine Jim’s face but the kid backs away immediately, skittish and on edge. “What are you doing?”

Jim looks at him suspiciously, distrust starting to shadow in his eyes. “What are _you_ doing?”

“Checking to see if anything’s broken,” Leonard explains but Jim doesn’t appear any more at ease. Leonard’s got a feeling that the kid has more pains than just what's visible on his face. “Alright, I won’t touch you. I’ve got a tricorder in my carry-on though, least let me use that.”

Leonard isn’t sure why it matters so much to him but he lets out a grateful breath when the kid agrees. “Good. You’re going to have to get it for me.”

“Why?”

Listing amnesia as a possible diagnosis, Leonard clarifies, “Have you forgotten the humiliating moment that I just had a few moments ago? Aviaphobia, Jim. I‘m not getting up from my seat til we’re on solid land. It’s easy enough to find, name’s right across the front of it.”

There’s a significant pause before Jim actually starts to unfasten his seatbelt. Leonard silently wonders if he’s this doubtful with everyone.

Jim gets up and retrieves the green duffel from the overhead compartment, sits back in his seat while handing it over to Leonard.

He pushes vials out of the way along with PADDs and medical journals. His hand comes across a picture of a young girl and he swallows a lump in his throat before putting that to the side as well. When Leonard finds his tricorder, he zips the bag closed quickly.

The wand sounds with an excited beep before he starts to wave it around Jim’s face—wary of his personal space. It doesn't take long for a reading to appear. It shows that there is nothing wrong with Jim. “It’s your lucky day, kid. You could use a dermal regenerator but other than that, you’re fine.”

Smirking, Jim shows a bit of triumphant and it bothers Leonard more than it should. “Told ya.”

“Yeah, you did,” Leonard concedes.

There’s turbulence along the way, a little swaying but the rest of the ride is smooth.

Jim offers him a hand when they finally land, more comfortable than he’d originally been. “See you around?”

It’s a big campus and the chances are incredibly slim but Leonard tells him, “You bet, kid.”

Clapping him on the shoulder, Jim gives him a smile that may or may not take his breath away. “Thanks for everything, Bones.” And with that he heads over to the shuttle’s door.

Leonard stares after him. “Who the hell is Bones?”


End file.
